He stood squarely on the edge of the platform, gathering the eyes of his hearers, smiling pleasantly, arms akimbo, a man at his ease and possibly at his pleasure.
"Some of you are herds," he cried, "and some are fishers, and some are farmers, and some are labourers.

Also some of you call yourselves Radicals or Tories or Socialists.

But you are all of you far more than these things.

You are men--men of this great countryside, with blood in your veins and vigour in that blood.

If you were a set of pale-faced mechanics, I should not be speaking to you, for I should not understand you.